EveryBestPicture.com revisits this Oscar Best Picture winner All love is powerful, Hollywood has long exploited this. It sells this particular strain by the bucketload: a romantic love that knows no bounds and is limited by no earthly constraints. The English Patient is one of the most perfect expressions of this kind of love. This man (Almásy, played by Ralph Fiennes) and woman (Katharine Clifton, played by Kristin Scott Thomas) find themselves in a situation which needs no further complication. She is married to another, WWII is breaking out around them and they spend most of their time in crocked vehicles with dwindling water supplies in the deepest of deserts hoping that they will be rescued sooner rather than too late. But they do fall in love. That much you can see from the poster. It is as if Jane Austen and Rudolf Valentino collided, creating something new, but old. Somehow, innocence and good sense had been left out of the mix. Our two protagonists show neither of these qualities in any great abundance and as a result the fireworks fly, a marriage implodes and the devil may care. I can't say that I warmed to either one of them- but that doesn't seem to matter to me. Both are rich- he is a count, she is landed gentry. Both have lives of excess and folly, champagne camping trips, events in evening dresses and tuxedos, but also manage to take themselves terribly seriously. They are not used to having to earn anything, to having to wait for what they want. If it weren't for the fact that she falls for him, that the feelings are mutual, you are left with little doubt that his sense of entitlement to her by virtue of the fact that he loves her utterly and completely would not just be creepy (as it sometimes comes across), but dangerous. He has little compunction in letting her know that he has rights to her, that she should relent, and she does. His somewhat single minded view of how she should spend her time is, fortunately, shared. His willingness to do anything to see her again leads him to provide maps to Rommel's Nazi desert troops enabling a massacre of thousands. All in the name of his love for her. However, this portrait of a love which leaves a trail of destruction across North Africa is countered by another tale woven into the film, a tale of two simpler people who seek nothing material (Naveen Andrews plays Kip, Juliette Binoche as Hana). Their love hurts no one, but hanging above them is an ever approaching double-bladed sword of Damocles: everyone she loves dies, and he is a bomb disposal expert who spends his days defusing booby traps and unexploded ordinance. The English Patient is sumptuously shot. To make it this far into a review without mentioning this, or comparing it to Lawrence of Arabia (as lazy as it may seem, with both set in the desert) is absurd. But it is to the film's credit that the beauty is complementary, not central. The power of this film lies in the worlds created by the director (Anthony Minghella): utterly convincing. You willingness to believe is enhanced by the central performances, the intimacy between Fiennes & Scott Thomas is particularly striking. There is so much going for this movie, and it stood out so considerably from the other films of the mid nineties, I can understand why when it came to voting for 'Best Picture' the members of the Academy would have thought to themselves that this had the edge, and posted their ballot accordingly. It distils Hollywood's obsession for (and vision of) love so well that it doesn't even need you to like the characters very much in order to admire the depth of feeling they have for each other and enjoy this movie-going experience. So, both couples find their worlds shaken and shaped by love and death, and spend much of their time transcending both. It is well worth watching it happen. This was worth revisiting. An important note on the matter of size
If you get the chance, this is really one for a very big screen. We are lucky that these days most of us have a 40-odd inch screen in their home, but being immersed in this film, to physically look up to it, is where it is at. To feel the music, to become part of the world that is Minghella's creation is worth a cinema ticket. If you can't, although there is plenty to take from watching it scaled down, the epic nature of a film like this will most likely be lost in translation to the small screen. Enjoyable in both settings, but I recommend an outing for this one more than most. EveryBestPicture.com revisits this Oscar Best Picture winner
Oh dear. I am open to accusations of having a deaf ear to musicals, counting but a few in a very long list of beloved films. However, this classic, a jaunty tale of an entitled middle-aged American ex-G.I. (Gene Kelly as Jerry Mulligan) struggling as an artist in a painted set Paris really did exemplify why the genre is so maligned by many. The inevitable love affair begins when he daintily harasses a very reluctant 19 year-old (Lise Bouvier, played by Leslie Caron) into a date while taking advantage of the vulnerabilities (and means) of a divorcee closer to his age (Milo Roberts, played by Nina Foch). We are supposed to love this. Gene Kelly's charms are undeniable- the smile, his grace, his looks and voice would each be enough to launch a star and in combination he lights up the screen. But when forcing himself on young women, the charms flake away revealing a forty-something guy who dyes his hair and won't take no for an answer. Eugh. Apparently, borderline creepy not taking no for an answer works. Tip: stare at a girl you don't know when in a cafe long enough to make her visibly uneasy, then interrupt her conversation pretending to know her (so that her companions don't intercede and even give you her phone number "I lost it!") and drag her to the dance floor, even if she is telling you 'no'. It obviously results in Lise being unable to resist Jerry and they go on a few dates. He sings, he dances, she falls for him. Only....... she is already 'with' Henri Baurel (played by equally entitled, old and talented singer/dancer Georges Guétary) and upon meeting Jerry decides that the next correct course of action is to....... accept an offer of marriage from Henri (Eh?!). And continue to meet with Jerry behind Henri's back, without telling either that she is committed to both relationships. Fully. OK. The dance numbers that are randomly interspersed, often without warning, seem to me to be very much by the numbers. I am no expert, and am probably revealing this in saying that to a lay viewer the value appeared to be in the set design and costumes. They stood out in their quality- sure, everyone danced well, but these interjections bore almost no relation to the plot and some seemed to last interminably. The opening scenes featured a number in which Henri boasted about his girlfriends many charms, each charm ("she reads books") was followed by a 1 minute dance solo on a striking colour-themed set from Lise (reading books while dancing in a yellow set, for instance). By the 3rd 'charm' I was wondering how many there were going to be, by the 6th I was hoping it was the last, by the last I had literally fallen asleep. Admittedly, as a teacher, Friday night is not the best time to watch an unknown entity. So I paused, and came back to it the next day. Lise soon reveals that she only feels compelled to marry Henri because he looked after her when she was a child, while her parents were fighting for the French Resistance. There's something more than just a little uncomfortable about this Woody Allenesque arrangement. But never mind. LOOK! Dancing! The movie is also distractingly disjointed. Not just because I watched it over two viewings. The story leaves holes big enough to build several Eiffel towers: what happened to Milo, Jerry's cash cow divorcee? Last seen exiting stage left for a glass of champagne, unbeknownst to her Jerry then left the room without saying goodbye to bid his other love farewell. Milo would have returned with two glasses wondering where her date went. But don't think about that. LOOK! A dance number! After a brief exchange with Jerry we see Lise drive off with tears in her eyes. After a 17 minute song and dance number that happens in Jerry's head Henri drives Lise back into the arms of Jerry (-literally, he takes her there in a powder blue Citroen). Why was Henri, the man previously so pleased with his 10 year grooming project coming to fruition so glad to see Lise disappear into the arms of Jerry? Did a gendarme see this scene of mid-life crisis (19 year old woman crying out of the window being driven away by a middle aged menace to innocence) question both parties and promptly turn the car around? Was it a noble act, without a hint of reluctance? Did he have another friend queueing up to hand over their daughter? Take your pick of the explanations, because it is far from clear. With a look on his face like he just found a golden croissant Henri bids her farewell and skips into the ether. Jerry and Lise bound towards each other delighted and wordlessly walk away from the camera into their future as Gershwin's score swells. This film managed to make so much hard work (the choreography, the set, the dancing, the costumes, the extras, the orchestra, the score) come across as half hearted. This is quite an achievement. The script was the last on their list of 'things to consider'- everything else came first, and so the film flops around like sardines on the deck of a trawler: all energy, no plan. A huge disappointment given the quality of grace onscreen. The sexual politics were just as distracting as was the lack of cohesion between scenes (or even acts). There were enough loose threads to repair an ageing sofa. Lise was left looking like a rag doll, as she was passed between her two male lovers and eventually had her mind made up for her when Henri gleefully handed her back to Jerry. I didn't get the impression that their renewed love affair would last. Much like the 'magic' of this film, their affair will also have faded and been forgotten by Autumn 1951. EveryBestPicture.com revisits this Oscar Best Picture winner
This is a musical about a woman's coming of age. But this is not a coming of age we would recognise in today's world- this teenager has no angst, she is happy all the time and her transition to womanhood is thanks to her aunt who runs a one woman finishing school. The men that surround her (Honore played by Maurice Chevalier, and Louis Jourdan as Gaston) think themselves sharks in a pond of lady-fish known as 'Gay Paris'. Although I do wonder if they mis-spelled 'Gaudy'. Technicolor, the company that were behind the colour revolution in Hollywood may also have been behind the set design... much like Around the World in 80 Days which suffered from the same headache-inducing promotion of scarlet reds, panther pinks and canary yellows. Now, this film was clearly made in another age. The innocence in having 60 year old Chevalier sing an opening song called 'thank heaven for little girls' directed a schoolgirls in uniform without thinking it might come across as creepy... especially since you hear him declare that he loves to collect pretty young things. The men are free to galavant, they brag about attempted suicides from the women they have spurned and do so while somehow receiving favourable treatment from the director who expects us to applaud and admire them. The chaos caused by young Gigi having the presence of mind to turn down Gaston's offer of marriage in the film only highlighted just how insane the idea of a woman having her own will is in this universe they all inhabit. Once again, this was a triumph for a film providing audiences with an experience they could not get close to anywhere else. Parisian high society of the turn of the century had taken on a mythical status- mentions of the Moulin Rouge, Monte Carlo... and all in colour. Once again, the spectacle trumped quality. The film is entertaining enough, if you can get around lines like "So fresh, so eager, so... young!" from pensionable men aimed at young teens in school uniform. The soundtrack contains memorable numbers, although not always for the right reasons. The sets and locations are beautiful, costumes once again garish to remind you that the film is in colour (I KNOW!). At least there were no unnecessarily overlong song and dance numbers and there was at least an effort to tell a story. But it was all just a bit dull. By the end you are struggling to understand why anyone would go for Gaston, a spoilt rich boy who having mistreated every woman in town can't seem to pin down how he feels about Gigi. With more back-and-forthing than a metronome (and just as much predictability) he finally settles on proposing, by which time the correct response from Gigi and her aunts would have been to "sling yer 'ook, mister." Surely it'll be a short-lived engagement, nil chance of marriage, less chance of fidelity? But despite the propaganda and conditioning process she has been through, Gigi is very clear on what she is getting herself into. In her words: "I'd rather be miserable with you than miserable apart." She has little choice either way. Depressingly, she may as well benefit from the material gains brought by this unfortunate alliance. And so it ends. Unless you are writing a masters on the sanitisation of predatory male figures in historical cinema you too will want to avoid it. |
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AuthorPablo Griffiths is a man with a passion for many things. He has recently taken an interest in writing about film, and himself in the third person. |